Anchored
by beamirang
Summary: Things are never easy for them. Post STID. Jim, Bones & Spock h/c. Pon farr.
1. Chapter 1

This came about when narlade and I giggled over Amok Time, how it might work in reboot!land and the cracky goodness that is Pon Farr. I'm not sure how that chat became so serious, but it did, and this was born. I promised narlade I'd post it before I went away so here is part one of three. Some of the dialogue – mostly McCoy's – is lifted directly from the episode.

Just a heads up: while angst is my usual byword, this one is very dark in places. It's a good job I like happy endings, right? This is set in the same verse as all my longer stories but you don't have to have read them to follow.

* * *

ANCHORED

All but the last few of Alpha shift rotation had left their posts for the day and Jim could no longer think of reasonable excuses to put off his task.

"Lieutenant Uhura, a moment?" Jim caught the way Uhura's eyes darted to one side in surprise as Jim called her out. She'd nearly made it off deck before he reached her side, forestalling any attempt to leave without him.

"Yes Captain?" That she met his eyes at all was a sign of her stubbornness, not a comfort at his presence.

Something had been off with her all week.

Correction: something had been up with her _and_ Spock all week. Jim had proved Bones wrong by being mature and staying out of it – none of his business, after all – at least until Uhura had showed up to her shift that morning wearing a long sleeved under tunic beneath her uniform. Jim had noticed it straight away, but it wasn't until he'd spent the first two hours subtly observing her body language that he'd understood just what it meant. He'd spent the following six hours silently working himself in and out of various panics and hoped to god nothing of great importance had actually happened. If it had, someone had better have taken good notes.

Jim flashed her one of his easiest smiles. "Would you walk with me? I'd like to talk to you."

He knew that piqued her interest. It was rare for Jim to talk to her about anything of actual significance. She was one of his closest friends and most trusted officers, but even a year into their five year mission, they preferred to keep certain things to themselves. "Of course."

Jim led her into the lift and took them all the way down to the Observation Deck. It was one of Jim's favorite places on the ship, and at shift changeover, very rarely occupied. As soon as they were in, he put a lock on the door. It wasn't often that he abused that privilege, but he didn't want to be interrupted.

"Careful Kirk," Uhura said, sounding more like her usual self now they were away from prying eyes. "I might think you're trying to impress me."

"Nah," Jim laughed. "If I was I'd have brought chocolates." Her sweet tooth was a very poorly hidden secret thanks to Chekov, who had wanted to thank her for saving his ass with a delayed communiqué and had left the mother of all boxes of chocolates at her station for her. Uhura firmly denied her squeal of delight, but Jim had the security footage to prove it.

She rolled her eyes fondly and took a seat on one of the curved benches that offered panoramic views of the stars. "It's so peaceful."

"I know." Jim admitted. "It's one of my favorite places on the ship. I could spend hours here."

"You don't look out at the stars enough when you're on duty?"

"Never," Jim laughed. "I was born in the stars. I don't think I could ever get tired of them." He reached over and gently took her hand in his own before carefully pealing back the edges of her long sleeve. "I'm not going to insult your intelligence," he said softly, "but I am going to need you to tell me how you got these." He touched his finger gently to the bruised skin that encircled her wrist.

Uhura pulled her hand back and looked away. "It's nothing."

"That wasn't an invite to insult _my_ intelligence." Jim said, his voice mild even as his heart pounded in his chest. There weren't a whole lot of ways for her to have picked up bruises like that and each one worried him more than the one before it.

Uhura's eyes flicked back to meet his. "I don't see how it is any of your business." Her defensive tone only made Jim more certain in his suspicions. If she'd gotten the bruises fooling around consensually, she might have been embarrassed, but not scared.

"It's not." Jim admitted. "But this is me, Uhura. Name anyone on this ship less likely to judge you than I am. You want to tell me you got them during kinky fun times, I'll happily share some stories; you tell me you got it sparring and I'll take you down to Bones for a wrap and we can run drills until you get the moves right." He made sure she was looking at him before he continued. "You tell me someone hurt you…" Her eyes dropped to the faded scar that was visible just above the neckline of his uniform.

"Jim, please." Her dark eyes were glassy but he knew better than to expect her to cry. Nyota Uhura was tough as nails.

She was also stubborn as hell. Sensing she wasn't going to make it easy for him, Jim took a steadying breath and asked the question he'd been circling around all day.

"Nyota," he used her first name to hammer home just how serious he was. Even though he'd known it for years now, he never used it. "Did Spock do this to you?"

The words felt funny just leaving his mouth. Jim knew better than most just how dangerous Spock could be when pushed too far, but he also knew his friend would sooner cut off his own hands than use them to inflict pain on his loved ones.

He knew Spock as well as he knew Bones…as well as he knew himself, really.

But… he had to ask. He _had to._ How many times had he been left covered with bruises left by someone's malice and no one had ever said a thing? He refused to be just another person who told themselves excuses for the sake of an easier life.

"It's not like that." Uhura said desperately, confirming Jim's fears. She grabbed his hands frantically, all but begging him to listen to her. "It's not, Jim, really. I don't know what it is, to be honest. He's just…" she flushed, color high on her cheeks. "Not gentle any more."

"What do you mean?" Jim pushed. God, the last thing he wanted to do was be prying into Spock's sex life, but needs must, he supposed.

She looked just as uncomfortable as Jim felt. "I don't think he even knew he was doing it." Uhura admitted. "He's always so careful."

"He's a lot stronger than you are." Jim said evenly.

She nodded. "Yes, but he's never hurt me. Not once. And he didn't mean to this time. I don't know if he's just suddenly gotten stronger, or if he's less in control of it… but really Jim, this isn't what it looks like."

The heavy weight at the bottom of Jim's stomach lifted. "Okay, but why have you guys been so snippy all week. Don't think I haven't noticed. Usually it's fun winding you up about it but-"

"He's being an asshole." Uhura said angrily. "Not, not _that_ kind of asshole," she said in exasperation as Jim's expression twisted. "Just…he's not talking to me, he's channeling his bitchiest inner Vulcan. If he was a woman I'd swear he's having the worst case of PMS ever."

That…was a terrifying thought. Jim shuddered. "Right. Okay. I mean…can I do anything? Can I help? I can kick his ass for you if you like." Her eyebrow rose. "Okay, I can kick his ass verbally." It rose a fraction higher. "In chess." She was outright laughing at him now. He huffed, pleased, "Okay fine, I can annoy him until he stops bugging you and works out his inner angsty thirteen year old girl on me. I might even get him drunk so you can play loud music at him."

"Thanks, Jim." She laughed, squeezing his hand.

Jim grinned back. "Any time." He softened his smile. "You know you can talk to me, right? Always." It was important that she knew that. Spock might be his First Officer, his brother, but she was his friend as well.

"I know." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Ditto."

* * *

That did not mean Jim was about to back off. He was James Kirk. Backing off was not his style.

No, his style was more direct.

It was inviting Spock over to play a game of Go that night – because chess was something Jim took seriously and their ongoing battle was not something he wanted interrupted should Spock decide to throw the board at him.

It was pouring Spock his favorite tea – smelled icky, tasted icky.

And it was outright saying, "Okay, what's up with you?"

"Excuse me?" Spock's voice was evenly modulated and calm, but Jim swore he'd been fidgeting all night. Spock did not fidget. A fidgeting Spock was like a teetotal Bones: weird and a little terrifying.

"You." Jim said, studying the board with only half of his attention. "Your drama. What is it?"

Spock predictably gave him the eyebrow. "I'm not sure I follow."

"Of course you don't." Jim sighed dramatically. "Okay, let's start with the fact that you haven't drunk your tea."

"Perhaps I am not thirsty?" Spock countered.

"Hydration is important." Jim said. "And that shit is hard to come by: you never waste it."

"Are you basing some kind of psychological profile of me on my tea drinking habits, Captain?"

"And there's that." Jim pointed triumphantly. "You only call me Captain when we are off duty if you are being an evasive bastard."

"Are you purposely trying to anger me?" Spock glared at him.

"Is it working?"

"Quite efficiently."

"Good, that's point number three. It usually takes me a good hour before your eyebrow starts twitching at me."

"Perhaps you are simply improving with experience?" Spock said dryly. "is there a purpose to this discourse, or do you simply seek entertainment?"

"Of course there is a purpose." Jim rolled his eyes. "Believe it or not, I am trying to help."

"By angering me?"

"It's a working theory," Jim defended hastily. "Seriously Spock, I'm worried about you."

"Your concern is unnecessary." Spock said, his voice dropping to the same frostiness it had often done in the infancy of their relationship. "I am quite well."

"Are you really?" Jim asked earnestly. "Spock, talk to me."

"There is nothing to discuss." Spock said with ringing finality. Jim sighed. He had hoped they were beyond this all by now. Spock hadn't been so cold or uncooperative in years. "I am well."

Still, Jim was not without his weapons. "Okay. What about Uhura then?"

Spock's expression shifted to surprise. "What about Nyota?"

"You know why she was trying to cover up her arms today?" Jim pushed.

Spock looked troubled. "I had not noticed."

"Yeah, well I did." Jim countered. "Noticed the fuck off bruises as well."

"Bruises?" Spock said faintly, pulling his chair back and making to stand. Jim snatched out and grabbed his arm, gently stopping his retreat. Jim was under no illusion that he could actually stop Spock if he truly wanted to leave, but the gesture had always been enough in the past.

"Release my arm, Jim." Spock warned him in a low voice.

Jim ignored it, pushing on gently. "Not until you tell me what's wrong. Damnit, Spock, this isn't like you. You'd never hurt Uhura on purpose, I know that. But you have to admit something's not right with you. You're fidgety, you're moodier than Bones, who, by the way, tells me you haven't been eating at all and you know how he gets about things like that…"

"Jim…"

Jim looked at him earnestly. Surely Spock understood that Jim was on his side, always? Hadn't they been through enough together?

"Please, Spock." He begged softly.

For a moment, he thought he might have gotten through to his friend, but it passed quickly. Spock's expression darkened. He pulled his arm away from Jim's grip.

When Jim reached for him again, he twisted it aside roughly.

The loud snap of bone shocked them both.

Jim stared at his arm in surprise because holy crap, was that _bone_? He had to blink a few times to right his fuzzy vision, his legs suddenly wobbly as a wave of nausea hit him from the side.

Spock jerked his hand back and stared at Jim in horror.

"Jim…" he choked on Jim's name then made to run.

"Oh no you don't." Jim said, proud of his ability to string the words together when all he really wanted to do was throw up. "No no, you're staying right here mister. This is totally counting as point three. Or four. I lost count. Holy shit that's disgusting."

He wobbled violently to one side and Spock quickly braced him, his hands as careful and gentle as always, though far more hesitant. "Jim forgive me… I…"

Jim waved him off with his good arm. "Fastest way to forgiveness right now is a Bones. Oh my god." He was still staring at his arm with morbid fascination and a hefty amount of shock. The pain hadn't really kicked in, but it _looked_ like it should be agony.

"Of course." Spock said, trying to sit Jim back down, alternating between being flustered and horrified. He looked as sick as Jim felt. "Of course, I shall call him. Do you require water? A blanket perhaps?"

"I'm not cold, Spock. I'm, _oh fuck me_." Yep, _there_ came the pain. Jim gagged on it and pulled his arm protectively against his chest.

He vaguely heard Spock call for Bones and spent the time between then and his arrival doing a level best not to start hyperventilating. _Oh god it hurt_.

Bones arrived with his usual bluster of annoyance and urgency. He took one look at Jim's arm and nailed Jim in the neck with a hypo. In an instant, the good drugs kicked in.

The good, dancing elephants and sparkly lights drugs. Jim both loved and hated them. "Holy shit," he breathed, "Bones, why can I see bones?" The sentence struck him as hysterically funny and he grinned up at the two worried faces staring down at him.

"Be quiet Jim," McCoy said gruffly. "How the hell did you manage this? Christ, I'm going to have to reset it. You understand what I'm telling you Jim? Of course you don't: you're away with the damn fairies. Spock, help me get him down to sickbay."

"Boooones." Jim whined, wobbly limbed as Spock carefully helped him out of his chair.

"Doctor, I do not think I should be-"

"Shut up, both of you." McCoy growled. "Jesus Christ Jim, how the hell do you get yourself into these messes? You're in your own damn quarters."

"Just clumsy I guess." Jim mused, still wildly fascinated by the way his ulnar bone had decided to just pop right out of place.

"Jim," Spock admonished, his voice choked. "Doctor, I inflicted the injury."

"You didn't mean to." Jim defended his friend. Spock could do guilty conscience like no one else.

"Regardless of intent, I have caused you harm." Sure enough, Spock's eyes were dark with self recrimination.

McCoy, surprisingly, did not blow his fuse. He eyed Spock sharply. "Okay, you're both coming with me. Jimmy, you don't even think about arguing or I'll put you out for the rest of the day. Spock, so help me if you run and make me come find you I'll have those ears of yours."

"I think we should do as we are told." Jim whispered loudly to Spock.

"I believe, Doctor, that I would be better placed in the brig."

"Oh bullshit. Shut up and come with me already." McCoy looped Jim's good arm over his shoulders and helped Jim out into the corridor.

"Bones?" Jim felt it only kind to give the doctor fair warning, "I think I might throw up on you."

"Wouldn't be the first time, kid," McCoy sighed, "wouldn't be the first time."

* * *

Jim woke up on his least favorite bio-bed just in time to see Spock storm out of sickbay, leaving a worried looking Bones in his wake. He caught sight of Jim and headed over. "How are you feeling?"

"Did I pass out?" Jim asked, holding up his arm and rotating his wrist, pleased to see no sign of bone. McCoy smacked him around the back of his head and scowled.

"Damnit, don't mess around with that. You need to keep it elevated and still for a few days. That was a bad break, Jim." He held up a sling, oblivious to Jim's utter disgust.

"Elevated?" Jim moaned. "Oh come on Bones, you've fixed up dozens of breaks for me in the past. Wear the bandages, don't put too much strain on it. Simple as. Why do I have to wear a sling?"

"Jim, that wasn't a simple fracture." McCoy said seriously. "I had to surgically set the bone."

"Oh." That explained the whole unconscious thing. Damn. "Did you talk to Spock? Is he okay?"

"I ran some tests." McCoy hedged.

"Okay, and?" Doctor Patient Confidentiality ended when it came to the running of Jim's ship.

"There's a growing imbalance of his bodily functions, as if huge amounts of adrenalin are constantly being pumped into his blood streams. Now, I can't trace it down in my biocomps and Spock won't tell me what it is."

"You say you're convinced he knows what it is?" Jim frowned.

McCoy nodded. "He does. And he's as tight-lipped about it as an Aldebaran shellmouth."

"Well what are we talking about here?" Jim asked as McCoy helped ease him into the sling. "How bad?"

McCoy said nothing until he could sit down and look Jim in the eye. "Jim, if it isn't stopped somehow, the physical and emotional pressures will simply kill him."

Jim blinked rapidly. "What? No."

"I'm sorry, kid." And he looked it too. For all their posturing, McCoy and Spock cared deeply for one another.

"You've got to be wrong. Made a mistake somewhere. Run the tests again." Jim demanded.

McCoy shook his head sorrowfully. "I ran them twice." He said. "I'm sorry Jim, but I can't change the facts. Either we establish what's causing Spock's body to go haywire, or he'll die."

"How long?" Jim choked."How long do we have?"

McCoy held his gaze. "A week. Eight days at the most."


	2. Chapter 2

"You're dying." Jim said without permeable as soon as the screen focused in on its subject.

The Vulcan on the other end of the channel gave him a familiar raised eyebrow and a half twitched smile. "While I am aware I am no spring chicken, as you say, I can't believe I look that bad."

Jim glared at Ambassador Spock and slumped down in his chair. "Not _you_ you, _my_ you."

"I see." The Ambassador said seriously.

"Do you?" Jim asked, "because I sure as hell don't."

"You are troubled, my friend."

"Yes!" Jim exclaimed. "Very troubled! Spock's gone crazy. Er. Crazi_er_. Than he usually is." Jim wasn't sure which part of the day's revelations had him most on edge, but he was inherently nervous and the Ambassador's presence was only aggravating things. He was still a little in awe of the version of Spock from the alternate timeline, bound to the elderly Vulcan by what they had shared during their meld, but still not really knowing him at all. Jim had the surreal knowledge that the Ambassador would follow him to death and never feel anything less for Jim than complete and utter devotion…and yet at the same time he knew that he was not the man who had earned it.

The old Vulcan frowned at him. "Jim, what happened to your arm?"

Jim looked down disdainfully at the sling that held his arm snug against his chest. Though Jim was in his quarters, he did not dare remove it. Bones would know. Bones _always_ knew.

"You. Him."

"Spock did that to you?" The Ambassador looked upset on his behalf. Jim would never change his Spock for the world, but he did sometimes wish he would be even half as free with his emotions – and their expression – as he elder counterpart.

"He didn't mean to." Jim sighed. "But…something is seriously wrong with him. Bones doesn't know what to do, Uhura can't get anything out of him and when I tried I ended up needing surgery. I just…I hoped you might have some idea. If this happened to you." Jim couldn't help the note of fear in his voice. He couldn't lose Spock, he just couldn't.

The Ambassador leaned forward, as if to invite Jim into a confidence. "If it is as I fear, then the circumstances surrounding the two events are vastly different. Jim, you must speak with him. You must get him to be honest with you. His life depends on it."

"That's not very reassuring you know." Jim said quietly. "He wasn't exactly in the caring and sharing mood."

"He will confide in you, Jim, I am sure of it." The Ambassador promised him.

"Because you did in your Jim?" Jim said carefully. He never wanted to hurt the Ambassador by reminding him of the friend he had lost, but then he supposed his mere existence did that as well as anything could.

Ambassador Spock smiled. It was something he did far more than the Spock Jim knew best. He wondered if it was because the Ambassador had simply learned to be more expressive, or if he was simply more content with his life than Spock. Jim didn't really like to think about the implications of either.

"I did." The Ambassador allowed.

"You could just tell me." Jim huffed.

"I could," the Ambassador agreed, "but trust that I remain silent out of the knowledge what a true and open discourse between you both will bring."

"Fine." Jim huffed, unable to find it in himself to be angry at the old Vulcan. Unlike his younger counterpart, Jim didn't think he could _ever_ be angry with the Ambassador. "Keep your secrets. Be mysterious."

The Ambassador's eyes twinkled, but he spoke very seriously. "Jim, I must warn you to be careful. While I know that Spock would never purposely do you harm, if you do not help him soon he will eventually be unable to tell friend from foe. He _will_ hurt you, gravely, I fear."

As if on cue, Jim's healing arm throbbed dully. He nodded, his eyes wide. "I'll be careful." He swore.

The Ambassador settled back, pleased. "Thank you. I am old, Jim. My heart is not as strong as it used to be: I am not certain it could stand knowing you were suffering once more. You mean a great deal to me, young one."

The rush of warmth that spread in response to his words made Jim smile bashfully. He knew there were people in his life that cared if he was hurt – far more than he ever could have dreamed of, actually - but for the most part those feelings were expressed in gruff, reserved manners. He knew how lucky he was to even have that much and would never ask for more, but it was still nice to hear it expressed so readily from someone.

But Jim would not give in to sentimentality, and he had no idea how to express his gratitude, so he brushed it off in his usual manner, secure in the knowledge that the Ambassador could read between the lines. "Not as strong my ass." Jim chuckled. "You're as strong as an ox."

"And Spock is stronger still. Head my warning, Jim. Be careful."

"I will." Jim swore again. "I promise."

* * *

"Spock, open the door! Open the door Spock. Spock! Spoooock! Open the door, open the door, open the, oh, hi." Jim grinned up at the annoyed face that appeared as the door slid suddenly open. The wave of heat that hit him from Spock's quarters made his breath stick and the mirrors in their shade bathroom start to steam up. "Wow that's hot."

"Do you require something, Captain, or do you merely seek to annoy me?"

"Actually both." Jim said, brushing past Spock and braving the wall of cloying heat. "I spoke to you earlier. Older you." Spock said nothing, his arms crossed over his chest. That was new and far more aggressive than his usual stance. Jim was momentarily transfixed by the way Spock's hands were curled into fists. He knew exactly how much they hurt when aimed at his face and his arm ached in memory. "I told him what Bones told me."

"And did he give you the answer you sought?" Spock said, his voice laced with cynicism and anger. Jim struggled not to recoil.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Okay, so he was taking a leaf of out Spock's Vulcans Don't Lie handbook here, but desperate times…

As if he'd been waiting for that cue, Spock's shoulders slumped, assuming that Jim already knew his secret. "How could I?"

Alarm bells started to ring in Jim's head. "But I mean…there are options, right?"

"None that are sustainable in the long term." Spock sank down into his armchair, his whole body vibrating with tension and adrenaline. "I have no way of knowing if Nyota would even survive the ordeal. Perhaps if we had bonded prior, but I was foolish."

"Wait, bonded? What the hell do you mean _if_ she would survive?"

Spock looked up at his sharply. "The Ambassador told you nothing." He accused. "You lied to me."

"I prevaricated." Jim hedged.

"Semantics."

"_Necessary_ semantics! Jesus Spock, what the hell is wrong with you? How does Uhura have anything to do with it?"

"You wish me to be blunt with you, Jim?" Spock said darkly. He stood up abruptly and Jim was suddenly painfully aware that even if he made it to the exit, that one door would mean nothing in the face of a pissed off Vulcan.

Still, Jim refused to be afraid of his First Officer. He had met beings worthy of fear and Spock would never number among them. "Yes." He said firmly. "I do."

His back suddenly cracked painfully against the wall as Spock crossed the room and shoved him back forcefully. Jim wheezed, his chest aching and his head ringing. "It is called Pon Farr." Spock said darkly. "The great shame of my people."

"So it's a Vulcan thing?" Jim choked, struggling to maintain some kind of authority.

"It is very much a Vulcan _thing_." Spock agreed. "It is the time of mating. My mind and body demand to be united with another. I should, at this point in time, be requesting you take me to Vulcan where my betrothed and I would consummate our bond, sating my biological imperative to mate."

Jim blinked as he tried to assimilate everything Spock was saying. "So you're telling me this whole dark and angry and loomy thing you've got on is because you're _horny_?" He demanded, his brain catching up with him a second later. "Wait, your betrothed?"

"T'Pring." Spock said, still effortlessly keeping Jim pinned against the wall with one hand. "She perished on Vulcan with the rest of her clan."

Horror and sadness hit Jim hard, leaving him as breathless as Spock's shove. "Spock, I am so sorry. I didn't know." Sometimes he felt like he could spend an entire lifetime getting to know Spock and still be completely in the dark about him.

"You are not to blame." Spock said, his voice slowly becoming more modulated as his temper calmed. "It does however create an unfortunate set of circumstances. I cannot seek T'Pring's consummation, and even if we were to arrive on New Vulcan today, there is not the time to seek out a compatible mate before the Plak Tow takes me."

"The what?" Jim asked.

"Plak tow. The blood fever." Spock seemed to realize he had Jim pinned against the wall and suddenly took a step back, his eyes young and more than a little afraid. "It is a state of being which descends during the height of Pon Farr. Once I enter it, I must mate, and bond, with another compatible being, or I will perish. When the fever sets in, I will have no control over my mind or my body and merely be a slavish beast to my primal desires."

Suddenly able to breathe again now he was no longer pressed to the wall, Jim gaped at his XO. "Fuck or die. That's an _actual_ thing?"

Spock glared at him. "I sense you are not taking this seriously, Jim."

"Oh I'm taking it seriously." Jim nodded fervently. "I'm just trying to get my head around how Vulcans, the most logical, serious species in the universe, can have this whole crazy biological blip and no one knew about it."

"It is a very private matter." Spock said in irritation. "We do not discuss it with outsiders."

"I'm an outsider." Jim pointed out.

"You are a menace." Spock corrected, then more gently added, "and my friend."

"So let me help you." Jim begged. "There has to be some way. You talked about Uhura? Is she compatible with you?"

Spock seemed to shrink down on himself again. "I believe she is." Spock answered reluctantly, "however I have no guarantee she would survive the process."

"The bonding or the sex?" Jim asked. "I can't believe I am talking to you about sex. Sex with Uhura. Jesus." The look Spock shot him was mostly exasperated, but there was an edge of the fondness he saw so clearly in the Ambassador and that buoyed Jim's resolve. "Have you even talked to her about it?"

Spock shook his head. "There is no point. I will not place her in that situation."

"The situation that saves your life?"

Spock scowled. "The situation that demands the total submission of her mind and her future to my will. A bond is not something to be entered into lightly. It is permanent. I know Nyota, Jim. If I explain the predicament I find myself in to her, she will agree to bond with me, despite the risks to her person, and despite the long term ramifications. She will do so purely to save my life. I will not force her hand in such a way."

Jim stared at him dumbly. "Wow, you're an idiot."

"Excuse me?"

"An idiot." Jim repeated himself. "Uhura is totally and completely, one hundred percent in love with you, dumbass."

"I am aware of her feelings for me." Spock said testily.

"Okay, right. Well are you telling me you aren't in love with her?"

"Vulcans do not-"

"I swear to god, you finish that sentence I'm shaving your eyebrows off." Jim threatened. "You love her. She loves you. It's sickeningly adorable and I'd hate you both of it wasn't so fucking awesome. Talk to her, Spock. I think you'd find her more than amenable." Jim paused, grinning, "actually, she'll kick your ass for even considering just hiding away and dying. You might have three times her strength, but I'd still put my credits on her."

Spock looked so utterly conflicted, so completely miserable, that Jim couldn't help but ache for him. How terrifying it must be to be so overwhelmed by your biology that every principle you held dear was stripped away from you. For such a stoic, proud race as the Vulcans, the forced removal of their agency seemed utterly cruel.

"I do not know, Jim." Spock admitted.

"Talk to her, Spock." Jim encouraged quietly. "Or I will. I'm not letting you die. And as for the sex thing…look, worst case scenario, we have Bones on call and I'll sit in a corner with my eyes closed and a phaser on hand."

"Your self-sacrifice is noted, Jim." Spock said, finally losing the haunted look in his eye to twitch a smile.

Jim shuddered dramatically. "Ugh, tell me about it."

For the moment, something had broken the tension in the room. Jim was saddened then to hear the hesitancy in Spock's voice when he next spoke. "Do you believe she desires it?" he asked softly. "A bond? With me?"

"Yeah." Jim said, smiling and projecting all the sincerity he could. "I do."

Spock nodded slowly. "Very well."

"You'll talk to her?" Jim pushed.

"I will." Spock agreed.

Jim slumped down against the wall. "Thank fuck for that. Jesus. No one ever mentioned I'd need to take a course in couples counseling when I took this gig."

* * *

Feeling considerably more relaxed, Jim left Spock as soon as he had watched his friend comm. Uhura. He needed a shower and a mug of Jo's patented comfort hot chocolate – mini marshmallows were officially the best thing he had programmed the replicator banks with – and a PADD fully loaded with some of the trashiest literature he'd been able to find.

He deserved a night off and wasn't about to justify it to anyone.

He luxuriated as much as he could in a sonic shower, unfastening the sling and leaving his arm in the heavy support bandages he'd been provided with. He drank his hot chocolate and commed Bones with the good news, promising to fill him in on any further details the next morning at breakfast, then settled down on his bed for a night of mindless drifting. He even had a glass of wine instead of his usual whiskey and felt thoroughly grown up. That was a sign of getting old, right? Staying in with wine and a novel.

He was six chapters in when his door chimmed. He invited his caller in absently. "Come."

Uhura stepped into his quarters with a soft smile. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting?"

Jim looked up from his PADD and grinned. "Well I think I figured out which characters are having an affair, I'm fairly sure who is going to die at the end and I guessed the serial killer by the middle of the first chapter. So no. Not really."

"Why do you read that trash?" She laughed at him, sitting on the end of his bed, one leg curled up under her. She'd changed into loose pants, very similar to the ones Jim wore, and a large hooded Starfleet Academy sweater. There weren't many women who could wear such unglamorous clothing and look as beautiful as she did. Jim hadn't bothered with a shirt, not wanting to jar his arm more than necessary and content with the warmth of his quarters.

"I'll have you know that _A Killer Always Calls Thrice_ is a very successful rewrite of a highly popular sequel to a greatly respected classic."

"You're such a moron."

"That's me." Jim beamed. "Captain Moron. So did you talk to Spock?"

She nodded. "I did. That's why I'm here. I wanted to thank you."

"You don't have to thank me." Jim said seriously. "I'm supposed to look out for you. That's my job as your Captain and my privilege as your friend."

She looked at him with wonder and smiled a warm, perfect smile at him. "How did I ever believe that drunken, lecherous, selfish jerk I met in that crappy bar was real?" Jim looked away, embarrassed. "I'm glad I got to know you, Jim Kirk."

Jim deflected her with a smile. "So, you're gonna be Mrs Spock then huh?"

Uhura knew him well enough to know how bad he was with genuine compliments, even when they made him feel so warm inside. She let him change the topic with nothing more than a smile. "Guess I am."

"When's the big day? I guess you can't really hang around and plan a big wedding. Is there even a wedding protocol here? Do I get to officiate the crazy sex ritual?"

She rolled her eyes and smacked his good arm hard. "No you don't. And it's tomorrow. He wants to meditate tonight...I think he's waiting for me to change my mind. I swear to god he's almost as dumb as you are."

Jim held his hand to his heart as if wounded but said. "I'm happy for you." Jim was, he really was. "Who'd have thought, huh? Look at us now. You about to make Spock an honest Vulcan and us having a whole conversation without me hitting on you the once."

"Idiot." She shook her head fondly.

"You know it." He held out his uninjured arm and hugged her tightly. She curled against him in a way he'd never have imagined her doing, warm and soft, but utterly innocent in her intentions.

"Thank you, Jim." She whispered, curling her arms around his back and resting her head on his shoulders.

"Anytime." Jim said, stroking her dark hair back where it had caught against his cheek.

He held her like that for a few moments, the two of them both content and so happy that the third presence in the room went unnoticed until Uhura was being wrenched violently from his arms.

Jim was on the defensive a second later as she cried out in pain, but the fist that caught his face shattered his defense and sent him sprawling back against the bed. He could barely see for the blood in his eyes, his nose broken and his cheeks already swelling.

"Pi'tak_!"_ The voice that bellowed in his ear was filled with an inhuman rage as impossibly strong hands found his throat and began to squeeze. "_Thief!_ Svik! _Betrayal!"_

"Spock!" Jim could barely speak for the crushing pressure on his larynx. "Please-"

He could dimly hear Uhura screaming both his and Spock's names, but nothing of the Spock either of them knew lived in the inhuman eyes that stared down at Jim with absolute hatred.

His vision started to fade, his struggles utterly meaningless against the strength that held him down. Spock had always been stronger than he, but Jim had fought beings far superior in strength before and they had never felt as completely, overwhelmingly powerful as Spock did in that minute. He batted aside Jim's attempts to defend himself, only ceasing in his efforts to choke Jim to death to backhand him violently.

The second blow was enough to steal the last of Jim's conscious thoughts as a hand returned to his throat and another pressed against his face, fingers seeking each meld point with rough urgency.

He clung on stubbornly to his last remaining breath, until physical agony became mental and Jim tumbled into an endless, echoing blackness.


	3. Chapter 3

Okay guys, this part is so bromantic you wouldn't believe it. It's also chock full of the 'c' part of 'h/c', with some discussion of non consensual mind melds and the surrounding issues. As I previously stated, this short does take place in the same verse as my longer stories and this part references those more than previous chapters. That being said, you can probably get the gist of Spock's issues just by remembering that Jim is Jim: magnet to all things sharp, pointy and psychotic.

Hope you enjoyed this little play around in the TOS sandbox. Xxx

* * *

"-last time, I swear to god. I want a transfer. Someplace quiet and peaceful with no homicidal Vulcans, no blasted spaceships and no stupid, reckless morons named Jim Kirk and don't think I don't know you're awake you horrible brat."

Jim opened his eyes with a groan and almost immediately closed them again. "Ow."

"I'll give you 'ow' you little bastard." McCoy's furious face was only a few inches away from his own and Jim sunk back into the thin pillows on the biobed to try and avoid his ire. "Open your damn eyes Jim. You see these gray hairs? These lines marring my otherwise boyish and handsome face? _You are the cause of every single one of them"_

"Hi Bones." Jim grimaced in pain as he spoke, his throat feeling swollen and tender.

Despite his blustering, Bones helped him sit up and patiently fed him ice chips to suck on. It never failed to amaze Jim how Bones could go from volcanic levels of rage to gruff but tender concern in just a fraction of a second. "Easy kid. That better?"

Jim nodded and let his head rest of McCoy's shoulder. "What happened?" His voice sounded as though he'd swallowed a whole gallon of Scotty's special brew, or maybe just a couple of razor blades.

"You, in your infinite wisdom, decided to snuggle – half naked I might add – with the intended bondmate of a hyper aggressive, hyper hormonal Vulcan. In front of said Vulcan, no less." McCoy sounded utterly unimpressed.

"How was I supposed to know that was a bad thing?" Jim protested in his own defense.

He couldn't quite see Bones's face, but then he didn't need to. His expressions were always predictable. "When a man - and especially when that man is Spock- tells you he needs to commit to a lifelong bond else he'll fall into a psychotic rage and kill anything that crosses his path, it's _never_ a good idea to canoodle with the object of said man's affections."

"We weren't _canoodling."_ Jim grumbled. "She was happy; I gave her a hug. Then Spock tried to kill me. Holy shit, Spock tried to kill me. Is he okay, what happened? Where is he?"

Jim blamed what he could only imagine were some pretty impressive drugs for his delayed reaction. The last thing he could remember was Spock's presence suddenly invading his thoughts and feelings, pulling at all the dark, painful places inside of Jim until he lost his grip on consciousness.

"You _died_ Jim. That's what happened." McCoy had managed to loop an arm around Jim's shoulders and squeezed him tightly. "You gotta stop doing that, kid. I can't take it."

"I'm sorry." Jim whispered. "I really didn't mean to."

"I know." Bones sighed.

"What happened? How did you stop him?"

"Didn't have to." Bones shrugged. "Uhura called me damn near screaming bloody murder, called security as well, not that it made the slightest bit of difference. A tank couldn't have moved Spock and stunning him wouldn't have done a damn bit of good. I got to your quarters the same time they did. You'd stopped breathing and that seemed to be enough to break Spock out of the blood rage. Apparently he took your compromising position with Uhura as a sign that she was challenging his claim on her. Women can do that on Vulcan, I don't really know. Either way it triggered something in his head that said he had to kill you. Once he'd done the job he regained his sanity. As much as he ever had, anyway."

"So you pulled another miracle out of your ass, huh?" Jim smiled fondly at his friend, purposely not thinking about the way Spock's fingers had closed so tightly around his throat.

McCoy snorted. "I had to perform an emergency tracheotomy." He said. Jim reached up to feel at his throat, fingers brushing the slowly fading scar tissue left over from his encounter with the Klingons and eventually finding the small circular incision.

"That bad?"

"Your larynx was a mess." McCoy sighed. "I've repaired the damage and you're healing well, but go easy on it okay? You need to tell me straight away if you feel light headed or short of breath."

Jim got the sense that McCoy was deadly serious. "Okay Bones." He promised. "But what about Spock and Uhura? Are they okay? They didn't have to finish the whole bonding thing did they?" Jim didn't even want to imagine how terrifying that would have been for Uhura when Spock was that out of control.

"Way I understand it, they needed to bond so Spock wouldn't die or go crazy when the blood fever set in. Since he did go crazy, only your death or his could end it."

"Lucky me, huh?"

"I hate you sometimes, Jim, I really do." McCoy sighed miserably.

Jim's head still rested on his friend's shoulder. "I know you do."

McCoy didn't comment on that. "I gave Uhura a sedative to sleep off the shock – she was lucky, just a few bumps and bruises. Could have been a lot worse. I had to reset your nose and fix up both your zygomatic arches. Can't be messing up that pretty face of yours, can we?"

"Damn right." Jim said tiredly. "And Spock?"

"Well he tried to arrest himself, freaked out in true Vulcan fashion, and has locked himself in his quarters ever since." Jim lifted his head to ask a question but McCoy pre-empted him. "Three days. I had to perform multiple surgeries, Jim."

"I'm sorry Bones." Jim said genuinely.

McCoy ruffled his hair affectionately and eased himself off the bed. "I know you are, kid."

"So," Jim sighed, settling back against the pillow, "crazy Vulcan sex rituals, huh?"

Bones rolled his eyes. "Not so crazy really. All mammals have some kind of instinct when it comes to reproduction and survival of the species, Vulcans just tend to be more _Vulcan_ with it but they are no means the worst. The Antechinus Stuartii will literally fuck until it dies."

"Isn't that a mouse?" Jim frowned. "Wow, Bones. I could have done without that image in my head. Thank you."

"You're welcome." McCoy smirked. "Now be a good boy and go to sleep. I'll be back in a few hours with pudding."

"Caramel?" Jim said hopefully.

"You'll eat what you're damn well given." McCoy huffed, heading for his office.

Jim didn't bother to hide a grin. He knew he'd get the caramel. Bones was such a soft touch.

* * *

Jim woke up some hours after Bones had decided to take Jim at his word and brought him six cups of caramel pudding, and made him eat all of them. Sickbay lights were dim, but not so much that it obscured the layout of the room, or hid the tall, lanky figure that sat besides Jim's bed.

"Hey," he grinned, pleased to see Spock looking stiff and uncomfortable and utterly like the First Officer he knew so well, "how are you feeling?"

"You should not speak," Spock said quietly. "Your throat-"

"Is fine." Jim assured him. "Just a little swollen. Bones says it will be fine in a few days." He tried to look authoritative and in control, which was hard when tucked under several layers of blankets, but he thought he managed a reasonable display. "Glad to see you did not check yourself into the brig."

"I did attempt to." Spock said flatly. "Doctor McCoy however deemed it more appropriate to put me to use here in his stead. I am not sure I trust his professional integrity when he deems it fit too leave an injured man with the monster who caused his injuries in the first place."

"You're not a monster, Spock." Jim said in shock.

"Am I not?" Spock shook his head. "I killed you, Jim. I nearly tore apart your mind."

"Okay," Jim said, "so that's worse than beating the crap outta me?" He was pretty sure he looked as puzzled as he felt, because whatever Spock might have done while poking around in his brain was a whole lot less painful than the crushed larynx.

Spock did not look so forgiving of his own actions. "Jim, you understand that what I did to you is considered the most repugnant crime among my people?"

"That?" Jim frowned. "Really? Maybe you guys should get out more."

Spock stared at him in disbelief. "Jim, I violated your mind."

"You poked around a bit. Probably more traumatic for you than me."

"I attempted to break you psychologically. I would have done so had my physical attack on you not been so violent." The troubled, guilty look on Spock's face was more than Jim could stand.

"You're making far too big a deal of this." Jim tried to reassure him.

"And I do not believe you are taking this as seriously as it is."

"I'm fine."

"A stroke of fortune, nothing more." Spock said seriously. "For what I did there can be no forgiveness."

"Oh really?" Jim said, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. "Is that so?"

"It is." Spock looked utterly miserable.

Jim was not okay with that. It had taken him a very long time to get there, but Jim had learned to be pragmatic, and that meant moving on from things that did not need dwelling upon. "Funny," he said, "seems like I should maybe get some choice in _that_ at least." Okay, so he wasn't above playing dirty. He needed some weight in his corner! Especially with Spock looking so completely wretched and being content to just make Jim's choices for him.

Spock recoiled and Jim forced himself to be more considerate. By the looks of things he'd get over what happened far more quickly than Spock. When he thought about it, all the things that Spock seemed most upset about – the meld, the lack of consent – were things that he himself had been able to exercise no control over. With that in mind, Jim resolved to be more gentle in his approach.

"Spock," he said softly, "I don't blame you for any of this. It was _not_ your fault, you understand me?" Spock was probably the most brilliant man Jim had ever met, but clearly the words Jim spoke to him were utterly abstract to his mind. "I forgive you, if that's what you need to hear me say, but really. This isn't going to keep me up at night."

Perhaps that was a lie. Jim's unconscious mind was a contrary devil and it had no rhyme or reason for why it did what it did. He probably _would_ dream of the blank, inhuman look in Spock's eyes as he tried choking the life out of Jim, but that was certainly not a fact he needed to share.

"You are too quick to forgive those who do you harm." Spock shook his head hopelessly.

Jim shrugged. "That's my choice. You did your weird voodoo-" damnit, McCoy had him picking up that highly inappropriate and judgemental phraseology of his, "and I didn't have a choice in that: I'm forgiving you for it and you don't have a choice in _that_. Now we can continue what is probably going to be the most ridiculous pissing contest in history, or we can accept that shit happened, neither of us to blame and we both lived to tell the tale. In my book that's a win. A pretty huge one."

"A win." Spock echoed faintly.

"We should have cake and celebrate." Jim nodded, his voice firm.

Spock eventually sighed. "I appreciate your position on the matter Jim, I truly do. However I ask that you take a moment to look at it from my perspective." Jim frowned, but nodded, encouraging Spock to continue. "After our first, less than auspicious meeting, I will admit you perplexed me, often to the point of madness. I found you a puzzle that I wished to understand, and yet I did not truly get to know you, not as I should have, until I lost you." His voice was low and sad, his dark eyes fixed on Jim's. "I watched you die, Jim. I witnessed the light fade from your eyes and was helpless to save you."

"But you did save me." Jim whispered gently. "You and Bones. You brought me back."

"This is true." Spock nodded. "We brought you back and almost immediately you were tortured, kidnapped, and subject to an ordeal I would not wish on my most loathed enemies."

Jim couldn't help but shiver at the reminder of his time spent with Kodos. See, how could he possibly get upset about a bit of brain poking and blood with Spock when Kodos alone had done so much to leave his soul marred?

"I do not bring this up to cause you more pain, Jim." Spock said with quiet earnest. "Never has that been my intention. I merely seek to convey my own position of conflict to you."

"I understand," Jim said roughly.

"I do not believe you do." Spock was not cruel or judgmental with his words, but they stung none the less. "How can you? Moving on from that encounter, less than a month followed before you sacrificed yourself to prevent a war and we believed you taken from us, this time for good. I understand now why you acted as you did, but Jim, you must understand that losing you again destroyed something in me and I am only just beginning to repair the damage."

"I'm sorry." Jim couldn't help the way his eyes burned. He'd know, going into the situation with the Klingons, that his friends would be hurt by his actions, but never in a million years could he have imagined the levels to which their pain had been elevated. He would never, _could_ never, forgive himself for that. A part of him was sure that they themselves had not forgiven _him._ He wouldn't blame them.

"Do not be sorry." Spock said calmly. "Just imagine for a moment that it were I, or Leonard, or Joanna, who had suffered as you have suffered. Imagine that you have witnessed their pain time and again, impotent to stop it happening and unable to erase the agony that followed. Now I ask you to imagine that you finally believe you have moved beyond the pain of the past, you believe your dear friend to be safe and well, healing from those wounds, only to threaten all that in a moment of brutal savagery. You break their body and violate their mind, both of which have already been marred with many previous hurts. And then, after believing you have killed them, after having seen their blood on your own hands and lived with the knowledge of how it came to be there, they tell you that it does not matter. How would you feel?"

"Pretty shitty?" Jim choked, having to rub his eyes and pretend it was due to tiredness, not the prick of tears.

Spock inclined his head. "Then perhaps you can appreciate a modicum of my self-disgust at this moment."

"I don't know what to tell you, Spock." Jim admitted helplessly. "I _am_ okay. I _don't_ blame you. And I just wish I knew how to help you."

"You told me once that all wounds grow less painful with time." Spock said. "I believe it may perhaps be the case with us now."

"You…you want me to keep my distance? I mean, when we're not working? Obviously we can't avoid each other on duty but-"

Spock reached over and placed his hand over Jim's, stilling the unconscious tapping of his fingers. Jim didn't flinch at all. He felt no fear at Spock's touch and he wished he could convey as much. "I do not wish for your absence, Jim." Spock said.

"Okay." Jim said, relief leaving him slightly dizzy. "Then what do you want me to do?"

The look on Spock's face was one Jim had seen countless times on the Ambassador, but felt so much more powerful and precious when backed with the knowledge that _he_ was the one to have earned it, not the memory of someone he never could hope to be.

"Be Jim," Spock said warmly. "That is all I require of you."

Jim felt his smile tug at the slightly tender skin of his cheeks, but that did not stop him. "Yeah, okay." He said. "I can do that."


End file.
